


Before the Fall

by arashi_ga_mooi_o_furuu



Series: An Eternal Alliance [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Anyway I warned y'all, Arcann has anger management issues, Because of Reasons, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Deal With It, Except being dumb idiots in love, Gen, I said "If nobody does it I will", Jury's still out, Loss of Control, Loss of Limbs, Multiple Outlanders, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Rating May Change, So the incest twincest tag doesn't seem relevant because they don't actually do anything, This may be the worst or best idea I've ever had, Though in this story they have not entered any kind of relationship, Though that may change, Though they should have because then we would have avoided all this mess, WELL I DID, Yes I do ship the twins together, bad me, though it's not explicitly stated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 23:49:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11024154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arashi_ga_mooi_o_furuu/pseuds/arashi_ga_mooi_o_furuu
Summary: The Empire did not fall but his World did.





	Before the Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even sorry. I'm actually surprised I'm the first to write about them, but I guess it's due to the lack of presence in this fandom. Seriously, SWTOR is gold, more people should write about it.

Thexan had become used to the battlefield after months spent on it. Wasn't it what he'd been trained for all his life after all? He remembered the sickening panic that rose in him whenever he felt Arcann in danger the first times, knowing the same fear had gripped his brother on the other side of the bond. They couldn't leave each other in the beginning, always fighting side by side. It only made them more deadly anyway. But time had passed, the war was taking it's toll on them and they got used to the feeling, because the bond was _there_ , bright and strong, and while danger was there as well they knew they had the power to face it. They learned to separate on the battlefield.

Thexan knew they never should have when he felt the agony across the bond. The pain shot through his left side, a pain that wasn't his, almost bringing him to his knees, a scream dying in his throat, distress running through the bond like wildfire. A cry resonated in his mind.

“ _Thexan!”_

He almost pitied his opponent -Sith they called themselves- for she was the only thing keeping him from his brother's side. She didn't expect the sudden surge of power, neither did he really, and was powerless to stop him as he broke through her defence and pierced her chest in one swift move. He was running before she touched the ground.

He wasn't hearing any of the fight anymore, explosion and shouts dimmed as if he were underwater, his mind focused on the bond and the one who stood on the other side. Fading.

“ _Don't you dare!”_ Thexan's mind cried as he tried to go faster, _“Hold on! Hold on to me! I'm coming!”_.

He felt the sluggish reply, more emotions than words only a broken _“...hurts...”_ making it through as Arcann's mind weakly reached out to his. Thexan grabbed it, cradling it inside his own mind.

“ _I'm not letting go! I'm coming!”_

He followed the bond, letting it lead him to his brother. He knew a couple Knights were following him, not surprising considering he just broke formation and ran off. Good. He'd have people to help Arcann when he arrived.

The sight that greeted him made his fear rose higher if such thing was even possible. A bomb. There had been a bomb here. He could see the scattered shields, golden armours peeking through a sea of crimson. Was it blood or merely the sand of the planet? The bond shook and so did his heart.

“ _Arcann!”_ His mind shouted, the call tinted with despair.

The mind cradled inside his own responded with difficulty. Thexan saw it then, a white spot, almost invisible now, under the dirt, the sand and the blood. He was there before he realised he had moved, kneeling next to him, bond flooding with relief when his hand made contact with Arcann's and their eyes met. A strangled cry escaped Thexan when he saw the damage done. His brother's left side had been hit, the burns on his face probably extending to the rest of his body and his arm... Thexan could not see it anymore, so mangled and covered in blood as it was. How much blood had he lost?

“ _Thexan...”_

“ _Shhh, I'm here Arcann, I'm here. The... the medics will fix this, you'll be okay, you're going to be okay!”_

Arcann winced as pain shot through him once more and Thexan grip on his arm tightened.

“ _I don't think... I can last... longer...”_

And Thexan could feel it through the bond, damage and blood loss rapidly draining his brother's body of life.

“NO!” Shouted both his voice and mind.

He started pouring energy into the bond, forcing the weakening heart to keep pumping blood, using every ounce of healing Force he possessed to heal cells and tissue, their bond was glowing with power and probably was a beacon for any Force sensitive in the area. Not that Thexan cared right now, their foes could keep this cursed planet, take the Eternal Fleet, Zakuul, the entire Empire if they wanted but they would not take _him_. Not while he breathed.

The Knights were forming a protective wall behind them, others came to his brother's left side, starting the medical procedures. Thexan was no healer, knew that what he was doing was dangerous, that he could drain himself completely or kill them both. Arcann's eyes widened in fear, this time not for himself but for his twin as he felt the flow of life coursing through him.

“ _Thexan... Thexan stop!”_

“ _No.”_

“ _You're going to hurt yourself!”_

And here in the middle of this chaos, Thexan felt like chuckling. Because it was _Arcann_ of all people who wanted him to be careful. Arcann who threw himself at danger with a smirk and gave him a heart attack every single time; who wanted to do everything right _now_ before he was ready and always ended up hurting himself. Arcann who couldn't heal his own bruises because his capacity with the healing Force was close to none.

“ _You don't know that. I'm not letting you go.”_

“ _I don't want to take you with me if I die!”_

“ _You won't. It's me who'll follow.”_

“ _Stop it!”_

“ _Not until you're alright I won't.”_

Arcann would have probably replied had agonizing pain not made his whole body convulse. Thexan cringed, feeling the pain echo inside of him. As soon as he thought it, the pain dulled to the point it was only an impression and he realised his brother was raising shields on his side of the bond to guard him from the worst of his suffering.

“ _No, Arcann don't-”_

“ _I'll stop if you stop.”_

A dare, a challenge. Trust Arcann to remain defiant while severely injured. Thexan didn't like it one bit but the bond worked both ways and whatever liberties Thexan took, Arcann was free to take as well. If it was the price to pay to keep his twin stable, he was ready to pay.

“Your Highness!” One the Knight said, speaking over the sound of battle, making him break eye-contact with Arcann for the first time since he arrived.

“We stopped the bleeding but his arm is beyond repairs! We need to amputate him and replace it with a cybernetic!”

Thexan felt the instant jerk on both his arm and mind.

“ _No, no, no, no, don't! Don't let them please! They can't... I can't...!”_

Raw panic flooded the bond unfiltered by reason, the primal fear of losing a limb, a part of _himself_ almost overwhelming. Arcann wouldn't let himself sound so scared anywhere that wasn't his own mind. Thexan took a deep breath, separating his own fears from Arcann's lest they drown him. The bond was so strong he sometimes forgot where he ended and Arcann began.

It made sense, his limb couldn't be saved, it was only a threat to his brother's life at the moment. Perhaps if he were a better healer... It sickened him, what he had to put his twin through -but his twin no more, this war had made sure of it- he should have been there, with him, not on the other side of the battlefield, should have been faster, _better_...

“ _Focus on my voice Arcann.”_

He sounded much calmer than he felt.

“ _I can't, I can't...”_ His brother was latching onto the bond, holding on to it for dear life. Thexan answered in kind, keeping their souls tightly knitted.

“ _You can, you know you can.”_

There was a short silence, he could feel Arcann taking back control of himself, thoughts overcoming instinct and a sort of grim determination taking root. The voice that answered was now sharp as steel.

“ _I can.”_

Thexan nodded toward the Knights, indicating them to begin the procedure. The sound of lasers cutting through skin was louder than any blaster shot. At first, Arcann only gridded his teeth, his body writhing under the pain, erecting more shields to keep it from leaving his side of the bond. But it reached a point even he couldn't stand. Arcann screamed. And Thexan's heart bled at the sound.

 

**

 

Thexan didn't want Arcann to return to the battlefield. He knew he would -he _had_ to- but the refusal his mind hollered was a knee jerk reaction. He could feel Arcann boiling with anticipation, itching to grab his lightsaber and kill. His brother fuelled his Force with wrath, the feeling like a drug letting the adrenaline course through his veins. And ever present, the desire to prove himself to their Father.

_A man can have anything if he's willing to sacrifice._

_But who's sacrifice, Father?_

So far, the Immortal Emperor had not given up on much. Thexan wasn't sure how long he could watch Arcann sacrifice his very soul to this war.

 _'This is the last planet,'_ he kept repeating himself once again, _'Our hold is on the Core Worlds is near complete. Once this is over, we can go home. And Arcann can heal'_

Arcann who didn't look like himself anymore. The mask hid half his face, covering the scars that were sure to be there. He didn't have any time to see them before it was put on, no time to run his hand over them to sooth some of the pain they produced.

Later. They would have time. He would sit Arcann down, knock him out if he had to and make him rest.

_How much are you ready to sacrifice?_

_Everything. Will you not do the same?_

He did not answer, not exactly for Arcann would have felt any lie coming out of his mouth.

_I will fight for you._

That was the truth though he knew it would be misinterpreted, but his mind supplied a much different answer. _No_. Not you. _'You've sacrificed enough Arcann, I won't let you give any more'_.

“I can fight just as well as before.” An unnatural voice cut through his thoughts.

Thexan wished he could rip the mask off his brother's face and hear his real voice, the one that wasn't deformed by machinery.

“I don't doubt that.”

Arcann's eye narrowed.

“Then why do you not want me to return to battle?”

Thexan winced. Right, the bond. He wasn't used to shield anything from Arcann nor was he used to Arcann misunderstanding his feelings. Vaylin often mistook his concern for pity but his brother never did until now.

“I simply do not like seeing you hurt-”

“I can use that to make myself stronger. I am not weak, this,” He raised his metallic arm, presenting it like one would an object and not a limb, “Will not change my abilities. If anything it'll make me stronger.”

Thexan could hardly look at it without remembering these moments on the battlefield. The bond burning with pain -Arcann's pain- when he was hit, his sprint to him, crimson blood on scarlet sand -Arcann's blood and there was so much of it, _too much_ \- his scream when the agony was too powerful to keep at bay. The feel of his brother fading as death tried to claim him. Because of him. Arcann had been on that battlefield because of him. Valkorion had granted Arcann's request to retaliate against the Outlanders invasion but had forbidden him to go, giving leadership of the fleet to Thexan. But he had disobeyed his Father and brought Arcann with him. he had refused to be separated from his twin, the thought alone, to be parsecs away, was painful to consider. He had felt the same fear within Arcann, accompanied with the rage of being grounded planetside. A second alone with Arcann, staring into his eyes and he knew he couldn't do that to them. He would follow all of Valkorion's other commands but not this one. And now, because of his weakness, Arcann had lost his arm, had almost died (no, please no, never, anything to not hold Arcann's lifeless body in his arms), because he hadn't been strong enough to leave him behind, because he hadn't been strong enough on the battlefield and left him alone instead of remaining at his side where he belonged. He also knew Arcann would never blame him for any of it, which was perhaps why he felt the need to do so himself.

“I did not say you were weak Arcann, nor would I ever think it,” Thexan said, keeping his voice calm and steady, not letting a single tremor upset it, “I do not intend to keep you from the battle if that is what worries you.”

Not that he believed he could if he tried. He saw the glint of rebellious pride that flashed in his brother's eyes at the notion of anyone forbidding _him_ to do something. But the storm inside him settled if only slightly as Thexan let the bond speak for him, letting all the love and trust they shared shine through it. Something in Arcann seemed to subside, like a dangerous beast returning to slumber for a time.

It was hard to tell with the mask, but Thexan was almost sure his twin's -no, not his twin anymore, they could never fool the Knights like they used to as children- voice had lost some of it's bite when it spoke next.

“We'll bring this world into our Eternal Empire just like the others. Together.”

“Of course,” Thexan said as he placed a hand on his brother's flesh shoulder, “Your dreams are mine.”

Not his twin anymore but still half his soul.

 

**

 

This time they didn't separate on the battlefield, Thexan wasn't even sure they could after the strain they put on the bond. He could feel Arcann's rage returning tenfold, feeding his strength but demanding payment in blood. More kills, more _death_. He cut through their enemies with unnatural ease and Thexan could feel the slight thrill coursing down his brother's spine everytime one went down. Each one of them fuelled the fire that burned inside of him but the flames kept demanding _more._

Arcann was moving ahead of him which in itself was an anomaly because when they fought together they kept close as the bond demanded. But Arcann was being driven by something that made him ignore the bond that had never failed them before and that alone let a cold shiver of doubt weasel it's way into Thexan's heart. He had thought things were looking up back in the tent as he held his brother's new metallic hand, Arcann's mind letting go of the darkness that seemed to cloud him more and more often, as they simply drifted off into the bond, minds and souls meeting halfway. It was the only kind of meditation Arcann had never disliked though it was most likely due to the fact it wasn't truly meditation, for no breathing exercises had ever given him such peace.

But then the Knights had come for the next assault and Arcann was pulling away from their connection, shrouded once more by darkness.

Thexan felt it when his brother struck down Darth Atroxa; felt the vicious satisfaction and the sense of a powerful Force presence being snuffed out, his brother's rage brighter than a supernova. And he was afraid. Not _of_ him (never; they were One, their souls intertwined, how could they ever fear the other?) he was afraid _for_ him. Afraid of the insidious darkness that crept upon him, coiling around Arcann's neck like a snare.

With the Darth gone, the troops were easily scattered,the fight nothing but clean up after that.

He looked at Arcann as they returned to the shuttle and could hardly recognize him anymore. Not the mask or the arm, those things were secondary, they did not _define_ him. No, it was his brother's _soul_ that seemed to morph with everyday that passed, his eyes getting darker.

They needed to talk. Fast.

 

**

 

Of course, they couldn't just speak in the shuttle, there were people in there. To have any onlooker during their private moments would feel like a violation to the both of them. Thexan had to wait for them to be back on Zakuul before he managed to get the two of them alone. After all they had to wash away the grime of battle before they could be presented to the Emperor himself.

Thexan walked side by side with Arcann to their quarters (Arcann's quarters in reality as they both possessed their own but to be separated was never something they desired) in silence.

It was only when door closed behind them that Thexan reached out through the bond, gently pressing across the shields that remained here. Immediately they fell apart like dust scattered by the wind as Thexan finally rejoined the mind that completed his own pushing away the darkness as well as he could.

“Please brother, can we speak?”

He felt Arcann's surprise mixed with wariness as he turned to face him

“About what?”

Thexan chose his words carefully and it hurt for never before had he had any need to search for words when talking to the other.

“You have not been yourself recently.”

Arcann tensed immediately and turned away as he proceeded to take off his top's clothes.

“I have only become stronger. More powerful.”

_No, you've just been killing more, there's a difference._

The thought escaped into the bond before he could stop it. In an instant, Acann's back went rigid.

“You as well then,” he growled as he took off his armoured boots, “You believe I'm weak.”

“It is not what I said.”

“No,” Arcann spat, “It is what you _think._ ”

Beneath the anger, Thexan could feel the sense of betrayal and it killed him to let that stand. He reached out; physically and mentally; wanting to reassure his brother, let his love be known, remind him that he would never doubt him not for a second, he was just _worried_.

But as his hand reached the flesh shoulder, it was briskly pushed away

“Do _not_ touch me!” The modulated voice hissed, and it was like a slap to the face.

They had _always_ touched, but more importantly, Arcann had never pushed him away. The atmosphere was heavy with tension, his brother's back still stubbornly turned to him, his arms crossed in from of him, almost as if to protect himself from the outside. On the mixed mess of emotions that was the bond, Thexan could feel a hint of shame. Arcann had mostly undressed but his pants and under tunic remained, hiding his body. Hiding the scars. While he and his brother were well acquainted with each others nudity, it dawned on him he had yet to see any of Arcann's scars.

_Deformed. Maimed. **Weak**._

Thoughts like poison in his brother's mind, the darkness encompassing everything.

“No.” Thexan said quietly, approaching but not reaching out this time, “Arcann, I don't think any of that! You're- you're enough, this doesn't make you any lesser, _please_. Please, I simply fear for you.”

For a moment he dared believe his words had gotten through but his hopes were swiftly crushed.

“ _ **Leave.**_ ”

The voice was cold, inhuman and pierced right through his heart for the rejection was not only physical but mental as well. Walls grew through the bond, pushing Thexan back and it _hurt._ Walls that had no place here, which very existence was an abomination, were cutting the brothers from the one thing that made them whole.

He could hear Arcann's pained gasp as well, knowing he was the one to suffer most as he erected the barriers himself, the bond rebelling against him.

“Arcann don't...” Thexan's voice was quiet, almost a whisper, “Don't shut me - _us_ \- out! Don't do that to us.”

Arcann's answer didn't have any of it's previous bite, simply sounding... broken.

“Leave.”

Almost a plea, one Thexan didn't want to follow and where had things gone so _wrong_? He was about to open his mouth, say _“I won't, I won't leave you”_ because one does not simply leave his heart, but they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Your Highness? The Emperor is almost ready to see you, a new report has arrived in the meantime that requires the attention of one of you. Princess Vaylin is already there.”

Of course. The war. Their Father. The two things that were eating alive the one he cherished above all else.

“I will be there shortly.” He responded, his voice authoritative, just as a prince should sound, paying no mind at the Knight's reply, his attention already back on his brother.

Arcann's back was still tense but his head was bowed, facing the ground. Thexan approached him carefully, making sure his presence was known by the other and gently place a hand between his shoulder blades barely applying any pressure.

“Rest a little please. After we're done with Father's meeting, we'll speak again?”

Arcann slightly turned to him and he could see his blue eye clouded by pain, anger and guilt. Thexan tried to convey all the love he could into the bond. Even chained as it was it could not shut emotions out completely. Arcann's eyes widened and a softness shined in them. On the other side of the barrier, Thexan could sense a love just as profound as his. The walls, while still present, lost some of their denseness easing the discomfort that had settled in them both. Thexan smiled, letting his hand linger in a caress before leaving.

“I love you.” He said quietly before the door closed.

They would finish this hellish day then Arcann and Thexan would bath together as they used to before this war, he would kiss every new scar on his brother's body and soothe them with a touch of the Force. Then they would go to bed and Thexan would guard Arcann's dreams chasing the darkness away from his brother's beautiful mind if only for a moment.

They would not return right away to battle, no, and if he had to stand up to their Father he would. He would cure each of Arcann's scars one by one if needed but he would not keep standing by and watch his beloved brother tear himself apart for a man who refused to even acknowledge him.

 

**

 

Vaylin looked bored went he arrived. Bored or angry were the main emotions she seemed capable of ever since she returned from Nathema. He had seen her during her stay here though very little and she always remained in her cage. A well furnished cage but a cage still. Neither he or Arcann were ever allowed to see more of the compound. He had seen her dim there, her mirth and fierceness fading, and to his and Arcann's questions, their Father would answer _'It's for her own good',_ never truly saying; with a glare advising them to stop asking. Then came the time when their rare visits to Nathema came to a stop. It was around the same time their mother left for good. She had tried to make them come with her but Arcann had pushed her away, laughed at the very notion, so full he was of youthful brashness, so saturated as he was by Father's teaching. Thexan had caught up with her as she left, to have a proper goodbye, not one tainted by harsh words.

 _'Arcann doesn't mean it, mother,'_ he had said, _'He simply... he wants to prove himself. He doesn't believe he can do it away from here._ '

And he believed Father's words, those that said their mother's weakened them, that she smothered their potential. He had kept her away ever since their training began. But he remembered, and he knew Arcann did too, no matter the cruel words he had spat at her when she tried to take them away, no matter how much he wished to forget. He remembered when she sang them to sleep, remembered when she saw that bond of theirs for the first time and her eyes widened in wonder.

 _'A bond is a precious thing,'_ she told them crouching before the young children, _'It must be nurtured and cherished. Only people who care more deeply for each other than words or actions can say have such bonds.'_

 _'Do you have a bond with Father?'_ A young Arcann had asked.

Their mother had smiled sadly and there was hurt in her eyes.

_'Not everyone has bonds my darlings.'_

The same hurt was in her eyes when she had turned to him that day.

_'I wish he could see he has nothing to prove. You are both perfect as you are.'_

_'You do not have to leave. I do not know what trouble you and Father have but they won't be fixed if you leave.'_ She had looked away, eyes full of sorrow.

_'I do. Remaining is too painful, he is hurting you.'_

Thexan frowned, confused.

 _'He's making us stronger. I do not like how he goes about it but he knows best. If there was another way he would use it'_ He had believed these words when he said them.

She had appeared so... heartbroken then he had been struck with the urge to embrace her like he did as a child. But he was a child no longer, such displays of affection were foolish. He truly did not understand why she wanted to leave, it felt as though she was abandoning them. Nevermind that she asked them to come, Zakuul was were they belonged.

His mother had taken a deep breath then smiled but it did not reach her eyes. She opened her lightsaber. She took his hand and rested the focus crystal of her weapon in his palm.

_'You are always welcome by my side should you ever wish it my darling.'_

_'Mother, I can't take this, it is your crystal-'_

_'I will get another. You can keep this one. As memento. If you ever feel the need to, look at it and remember you can always turn to me when in need. Be safe, the both of you.'_

And she had left with another one of her sad smiles. She never asked him to come alone with her. Because she knew. He and Arcann would not be parted, they were One and one would not go without the other. She knew and thus, did not ask. He only loved her more for it.

Her crystal he kept sewed inside his clothes near his midsection almost like a talisman even if he grew embarrassed at such silly notion. It remained a comforting bump he would sometimes pass his fingers over.

“Oh. You're here.” Vaylin's voice dragged him back to the present. Her eyes were burning gold and he found himself missing her old cerulean gaze once more. For years after their mother's departure neither he or Arcann were allowed to see her. They had sent gifts. They never knew if they reached her. But then the war began and the twins saw their sister again, her eyes now glowing. _'A side effect of her training'_ their father had said but Thexan still had a hard time recognizing the sister he had last seen years ago, with golden hair and a bright smile. Both he and Arcann had brought her trinket from the conquered worlds and she had grabbed them with shaking hands, asking _'How is it outside? On the other worlds? In the galaxy?_ ' There was desperation in her questions as if she was trying to live through them.

“Well it's good you've come, I was getting annoyed. Then I would have started to electrocute things again and you would have been a stick in the mud about it.”

_Hands reaching toward the sky, sparkles of lightning in them as she sat astride Arcann's shoulder as if she laid on a throne and from the top of her lungs she screamed 'I am the dragon of Zakuul!' before both her and Arcann became a giggling mess. Vaylin always loved electricity._

“Have you read the reports?”

She shrugged.

“Why would I? It's not like father let me out of there anyway. What do I care what happens?” She gave him a datapad, the scent of ozone clinging to her like a perfume.

Thexan skimmed it over quickly, frowning.

“A member of the Empire's Sith Council is gathering a rather large fleet. No words on when it'll be ready though. It seems to be a recent development.”

Not that it mattered as almost nothing could resist the Eternal Fleet. He truly didn't know why these people had attacked in the first place, one look at their armies should have been enough. But this regrouping meant he would have an excuse for him and Arcann to remain here. To heal. This could turn out to be positive.

Yet he frown as he read the next lines.

“He's gathering Imperial and Republic heroes.”

“Oh really?” Vaylin asked her eyes gleaming and it disturbingly reminded Thexan of a predator who had just smelt blood.

“Yes. Sith and Jedi obviously, military... Bounty hunters and privateers?”

His sister sneered.

“Now I just feel insulted. Privateers? Arcann'll cut through them in seconds.” There was some sort of twisted pride in the way she said it and he knew she _did_ admire her brother's killing abilities. It was the fact that she admired such thing that put him off.

Thexan was no saint but he never took pleasure in any of his kills. This was war, each death was necessary, each _sacrifice_. He looked at the fallen sometimes, both his Knights and the enemies troops and wondered if things could have turned out differently, if the spilt blood truly was inevitable. But such idle fantasies had no place in reality and he quickly set them aside. Death was the fate of all things, the climax of life and he had no choice in the matter.

Or did he? He had never stood before his Father and said _'no'_ to any of his demands, his feeling and thoughts on the matter never relevant, never part of his _own_ consideration. He found himself wondering what it would feel like, to stand before the man and say _'no'_.

Thexan smiled at the thought.

“So,” Vaylin said idly, “I guess there's nothing else. Oh right, has Arcann truly lost his whole arm?”

Thexan nodded.

“Yes, in an explosion.”

_Because I wasn't there. Because I wasn't protecting him like I should._

Vaylin appeared contemplative for a while and there was a flicker of emotion on her face that he had no time to analyse before it was gone. She shrugged.

“Oh well. It happens I guess. I'll bet his prosthetic will make him even more powerful.”

_'When we grow up we'll the most powerful Force users of the galaxy!' Arcann had told when they played in Zakuul's grass fields. They were so much younger and Thexan could see the stars shining in his brother's eyes. He held him close as they laid down there, looking up at the sky. How he missed those days._

Thexan returned to reality with Vaylin asking him a question.

“Big brother, I don't feel like you're listening, you keep staring off into the distance.”

She sounded annoyed. She always hated being ignored.

“I'm sorry Vaylin, the previous battle has been very tiring. We have to meet with Father soon, he'll want to see proof of our enemies demise.”

She hummed, her moods more changing than the wind.

“Yes Father does enjoy broken things doesn't he?”

And there was something in her words, the way she said them, something he couldn't place but still unsettled him greatly. He almost stopped her, wanting to ask what she meant but he hesitated, unsure of how to talk to this sister he could not recognize. Arcann had always been the one closer to Vaylin. The one who hid her when mother came looking to bring their sister to her lessons, the one who would sneak extra sweets for her, the one who never told her no. She connected better to Arcann than Thexan, despite the fact that their Father kept them separate most of the time. She came to their fighting session when she was still too young to learn and she would beg them latter on for a mock sparring and they would give in because Vaylin was bright speck of light and smiles that seemed to breath in life wherever she went. Thexan remembered he and his brother promising each other that she would always be happy, that she wouldn't be like them with bruises on her face at a too young age. But they didn't get any choice – truth was, they didn't seem to have ever had much of a choice in anything.

One second too long and Vaylin was gone from the room and Thexan couldn't help but wonder if she had ever returned. Arcann believed it was only because she hadn't been out of her cage long enough, raged against Father for locking her up instead of letting her grow. Thexan did remember how strong she was in the Force, even as a child, she would master in hours what would have taken them days though she could never reach the level of balance they had. He frowned. He always thought her strength in the Force could rival Father's if properly trained. He kept ranting about power, yet he had clipped Vaylin's wings himself. Strange that. Maybe it was time they looked in what happened on Nathema. It's not as if Father would have done something truly horrible to Vaylin, after all she was his daughter. He wouldn't really hurt her.

Would he?

_Father does enjoy broken things._

Thexan couldn't help the creature of doubt that seemed to grow in his heart with each passing day.

 

**

 

Arcann hadn't let down the shields he put on to bar the bond. They weren't dense enough to cause actual pain, but they had enough presence to cause him an headache. Thexan knew it couldn't be better on his brother's side yet he didn't seem ready to let go so soon. Thexan had no desire to forcibly push through -such violation painful to even think about- but neither his worry or love could be settled. He could still feel his location, knew his brother was alive but not much else. So he went to “his” room to finally wash off the grime of battle and it felt so _wrong_ to willingly keep a distance but with the bond blocked he was unsure on whether or not Arcann would push him away again. It hurt, like an open wound that refused to close, bringing things to the surface he thought he had put to rest. Yet he still sent love through the bond as if to say 'I am here you only need to reach out and I'll be there'. The shields didn't move but he felt a vague answer, as if Arcann was peeking through, trying to see if it was safe to come out. Thexan neither pushed or reached out, only leaving his side of the bond open, a clear invitation to come whenever he desired.

 _He was remembered of this time in their youth when they could not be in a certain distance from each other without physical pain. It had bothered neither of them as they had no desire to part at any time, glad to walk everywhere hand in hand and have the bond sing with rightness in return. Their mother said it happened often with such bond, that they only needed time, the bond would settle on it's own as they grew. Valkorion didn't share this opinion. He said it was a weakness that couldn't be allowed and proceeded to train them to be apart right away. Thexan didn't remember anything feeling quite so painful. They were so young then, he was sure Vaylin didn't recall any of it but neither he nor Arcann would ever forget. It was like being quartered from the inside and both of them had required five Knights to hold them down. He knew that's why there were some who had a fearful respect for him even though he was the most level headed of all of Valkorion's children. At first they had thought it would just be another teaching of the Force like all those they had before. Their Father was a great man, they wanted to make him proud. It had felt wrong, but they proceeded to step back from one another. Only discomfort at first and they thought_ _they could make it, that they could please their Father. Then they had reached a fifteen meters separation and the both of them had stopped at the same time. Too much. Too far. Thexan could feel Arcann's shaky breath and frantic heartbeat as if they were his own. In a way they were._

_They had turned to their Father._

“ _We can't go any further.”_

_Thexan's whole body was twitching, itching to be reunited with it's other half as the bond twisted with tension and muted pain. He had expected their Father to turn his back on them once more, seeing nothing but failure. But he did not. His face remained the same stony mask as Thexan felt him probe at the bond and did his best not to gag as the man toyed around with something so intimate._

_Valkorion nodded at the Knights._

“ _Take them farther.”_

_Thexan had felt icy cold fear grip his heart, the same terror mirrored in Arcann across the bond. Powerful armoured arms grabbed him before he had a chance to make a run for it, and started to drag him away. He struggled against their firm grip as the pain grew but the child he was had no strength to oppose them. He both felt and heard Arcann's cry -calling for him- answering with one of his own as he kicked at those holding him back only managing to hurt himself on the golden plate. He had no idea how far they actually went that day -and he did not care- At one point he could no longer see, his vision obscured by tears,nor could he hear anything over the sound of his screams and Arcann's resonating in his head, as the bond twisted in agony between them. But Thexan remembered the moment he snapped. The moment he felt a sharp pain in his left arm, a pain that did not belong to him and realised Arcann had broken his own arm trying to free himself from the Knights hold._

_Thexan did not remember what he did exactly -he was told of course but had no actual memory of the event- He remembered a surge of rage that deflated completely in the face of one greater need._

_Protect._

_Arcann._

_Protect Arcann._

_**Don't touch him.** _

_He had no idea if he said it out loud or merely thought it. He may have shouted it. He apparently used a Force wave to force away the Knights that held him down though he could not remember it. He was not trying to hurt, that much he knew, though he wouldn't have cared if they ended up wounded. No, his only goal was Arcann. His soul, his heart. Being kept from him and in **pain**. Anyone in his way was pushed back without a second though, senses only returning to him when his hands found Arcann's shoulders._

_Thexan was almost sure he let out a cry of relief then, arms wrapping around his twin in a white knuckled grip and he felt his brother return the embrace if only with one arm. It was alright, their world was in balance once again now that they had each other. As long as they had the other, they had balance. Thexan was told he held up a protective Force dome for several hours before sheer exhaustion made him drop it. All he remembered was waking up in their bed much later with Arcann cuddled closely next to him and Senya's voice murmuring a soft song, tension in all her words despite her attempt to remain calm. Thexan hadn't even opened his eyes. He had Arcann against his chest and wrapped tightly in his mind and their mother singing a lullaby behind him. All was well._

Of course nothing was well but during those short seconds of half sleep Thexan had believed it was. He had woken up to raised voices, their mother clearly ignorant of Valkorion intended training. She had said it was madness, that bonds were not meant to be forcibly stretched, that it could cause more harm than good. He heard his Father dismiss her arguments, saying the bond gave them weaknesses an enemy could exploit. They had to adapt, make a _sacrifice_. Or abandon the bond altogether. Thexan had shivered had the thought, hugging Arcann closer and letting the soft breathing of his sleeping brother bring him peace. Their mother would make sure their bond was left alone.

It was around that time they started seeing less and less of her. He still saw her from afar with Vaylin but that was all. 'She has a soft heart,' Valkorion had said, 'She does not understand the price of power. You have to learn that darkness must be faced alone.', and Arcann had taken to the man's teaching so seriously, soaking them up like a desert does water. Trying to earn acceptance, recognition, anything. Trying to please. Yet in all those years, he had never once fought the bond. _'It's meant to be you and I brother'_ he had said, _'The both of us ruling Zakuul. Our bond proves it, this is Fate.'_ Thexan had simply smiled. Whatever pleased Arcann was fine with him. Whatever dreams he had would be his own as well for all he truly desired was to remain at his side, make sure he was happy. He knew that for a prince he had little desire of power but he had never cared for the power itself, only what it let him accomplish.

“I would have you smile again, Arcann.” He whispered to himself under the hot spray of water.

He would have stayed longer but they had to meet with Father soon. Good. The sooner this was done, the better.

 

**

 

Thexan's relationship with their Father had never been stellar. True, Valkorion did not appear to have any form of attachment (but he must have at some point surely, else why would he remember their mother speaking of him with fondness?) but Thexan had always felt somewhat... detached from the man. As though he were a smooth and slippery rock he could never quite get a grip on. He had admired him most certainly, though it dimmed with the years. Thexan did not presume to know his sister's feelings concerning the man, before or after her training on Nathema (though he didn't think it presumptuous to believe there was no love lost between them), but he knew for certain Arcann had once idolized him. Why would he not? Valkorion had undeniable charisma, he was powerful something anyone who saw him could sense and his entire people loved him, worshipped him. He was the Immortal Emperor, a god walking among mortals.

Thexan did try to please him as a child, after all he was their Father, were fathers not supposed to be proud of their sons? He could also feel Arcann's own eagerness through the bond, his desire to live up to the man's image even at such a young age.

But where Valkorion's indifference only served to make Thexan lose any interest he had in the man's praise, it fuelled Arcann's anger and self-hatred. Bruises after bruises, bloodied nose after bloodied nose, his brother had pushed himself to only give the best, receiving nothing but a cool stare and a turned back. And more lessons. Cold words hammered into their brains until they could recite them from memory. At some point Arcann had even mumbled them in his sleep. He took his training so seriously, too seriously, always tensed, always stressed, Father's gaze weighing more on him than a bag of durasteel. His fear of failure did not help in the least and it often took him more time to master a new Force trick or battle move. Thexan would be there, pouring his trust and love into the bond, taming Arcann's anxiety if only for a while. Except during 'bond training' where they were forced apart and Thexan still felt shivers running down his spine and around his heart like icy fingers at the thought of it. It had been pure agony and when he thought about it, it had served no purpose actually he was sure it was part of the reason they had such a hard time separating on the battlefield. Their bond hadn't let them be apart sooner, hadn't strengthen through the pain; it had simply grown becoming brighter with years (and love but he would never breath the word out loud) and like their mother had predicted it had settled in its own time. Their Father hadn't seemed surprised by it nor disturbed by the fact that all those lessons had been pointless torture that could have broken apart their bond, broken _them_. And as years passed, a suspicious voice in Thexan's mind started to whisper 'Was it not what he had tried to do?'. The thought had made him sick. They were One completing each other in every way, the bond only a manifestation of what existed between them. To have that taken from him... he wasn't sure he could remain sane. Arcann was as necessary to him as his beating heart.

He had pushed the doubt in the back of his mind because their Father wouldn't do that. He may not be caring but tearing a bond apart was an inhuman thing to do, none could inflict that on another being especially not their own child. He had tried to make them stronger and failed. Right?

In the end it did not matter, not truly because there was only one truth: Arcann belonged to him and he belonged to Arcann. Valkorion, all Immortal Emperor that he was could not change that. There were some things even gods couldn't do.

The Sith's lightsabers were neatly rolled into one of their flags, their focus crystals still faintly humming with energy even if they lost some of their brightness at the death of their owners. Red focus crystals were never favoured on Zakuul, blue and yellow preferred due to the adaptability of their energy, though Scions felt more comfortable with magenta crystals, and the cult of Zilrog seemed to favour green ones. But Sith and Jedi he noted, often used crystals that would lean toward one side or the other of the Force, like one would favour a right or a left arm. He did not know the finer points that separated Sith and Jedi -Warring against them didn't leave a lot of time to discuss their perception of the Force- but it was obvious they drew their power from different sides of the Force. It saddened him somewhat that he would most likely never know. Ignorance was never something he was content with.

Thexan and Arcann didn't reach the throne room together and that in itself is unusual in a way Thexan didn't care to repeat. He still felt him before he saw him, his mind restless and he knew he was still expecting it. Acceptance, or at the very least satisfaction at all they had accomplished. And the likeness of this happening seemed very low. Thexan wanted to grab Arcann, pull him into an embrace and never let go, never let him near their Father again. He took a deep breathe. Later. They would get the chance later. He sent a gentle stoke across the bond, an almost shy query. Arcann looked up and for a moment, the determination in his eyes faded. His brow unknit and Thexan could feel the walls his brother put between them tremble, almost collapsing right then and there. It was still present -that, Thexan never doubted- the brightness of Arcann's soul that hid more and more often as if afraid to be seen. He could feel his own soul responding to his brother's trying to intertwine them once more craving the contact they had been denied.

But their moment broke when the doors to the throne room opened. The walls remained and Arcann stilled himself once more, tensing as though he were about to engage in battle. In way he was. Yet Thexan could hear quiet words, more feelings than actual sentences reach him from across the bond.

_After._

_I promise, after._

Yes they would have time after.

 

**

 

They didn't get time.

 

**

 

It wasn't meant to happen. That's not how things were supposed to go. Thexan didn't expect appreciation from their Father, but how glad he would have been to be wrong. They had laid the lightsabers at Valkorions' feet, proof of their defeated enemies. There were no words (there never were, never had been and in this moment Thexan knew, _never_ would be), only the same deafening silence that greeted whatever they managed to accomplish. Thexan saw the man's feet move, his back turning to them once more. He thought of all Arcann had sacrificed for a single inch of recognition from the man. His brother deserved more than being discarded like a faulty tool. If anything could confirm his slowly growing contempt for the man, this was it. He gritted his teeth, kept his head down and waited for their dismissal.

That's when he felt it.

Pure, unfiltered _rage_ that flowed in violently as though a dam had been broken. The sorrow, the doubt, the shame, the fear no longer controlled. It crashed into him like a wave and he turned to Arcann, too confused, not yet realising, because it did _not_ feel like Arcann.

“ _Arcann?”_ He called through the bond, worry growing inside him because greater than the rage was the pain he could perceive, _“What's wrong? What's hap-”_

He had no time to finish his questions before his brother sprung forward. The Force coiled darkly around him, a vicious beast that wanted to hurt, wanted to _kill_.

Valkorion was still standing there, looking regal, untroubled by what was happening behind him. Why would he be? His power was infinite, there was nothing for him to fear.

Thexan knew as he did it that he was not holding Arcann back out of a misguided love for their Father. It all happened so fast, he had to react instantly. He knew part of his reaction was probably due to the thoughts hammered into his head since birth -to protect the Emperor at all cost- but that was only the very first part, the split reaction. As he dragged Arcann back to him, he was only thinking of his brother because this was madness, suicide. Valkorion could kill the both of them with a wave of his hand and in the unlikely case he failed, it was the whole Empire that would do it for taking away their living god.

Most of all _this_ was not Arcann. This was wrath and fury let lose, a dark Force beyond control, beyond _Arcann's_ control.

Thexan's heart cried out to him, tried to reach him

“ _Arcann, come back to me!”_

But their bond was shut, a raging storm of violent emotions keeping him from his brother. Thexan managed to pull him back letting out a breath at the effort and for half a second he thought it was over. However the Force in Arcann wasn't sated, it had wanted battle, blood, _death_ and it had received _nothing_. Furious he turned to the one thing holding him back and he lashed out with the rage he could not deliver to their Father.

This was a nightmare, it could only be nightmare. The bond howled in despair as one soul assaulted the other, souls that were bonded, never met to be apart yet now twisted against each other. Thexan barely had time to get his lightsaber in time because he did not expect -could never expect- this to backfire to him. He could not remember his parry being so sloppy since childhood, not even a true defence, barely an attempt to keep the other lightsaber from cutting right through him. _Arcann's_ lightsaber.

They had made them together.

But it couldn't be, this could not be happening to them, and his eyes... pools of lava, burning like the sun reactors of Zakuul, light blue scorched away by something he did not comprehend. Those eyes did _not_ belong to his brother. Thexan faltered, something that shouldn't have happened, that never happened before because he always had his balance, yet right now he could barely hold his lightsaber correctly.

He did not feel the burn at first, just a lightning like sensation across his midsection. Pain took a bit longer to register. The first surprised was himself. He knew he had left his guard wide open but somehow it hadn't registered that Arcann could use it. He had never feared Arcann; still didn't even if that sounded foolish now. The pain came suddenly, unexpected, and he felt his grip on his lightsaber loosen, heard the weapon clatter on the ground. Next to him, Arcann looked as stunned as he felt.

It was as if all his exhaustion had caught up with him as the gold in Arcann's eyes faded and he could feel the rage dissipate, the beast forcibly put rest once more. There was confusion in his gaze now, quickly replace by guilt and panic as the realisation of what had happened dawned on him. Thexan tried to take a step forward, the urge to comfort his other half as natural as breathing but his legs gave out underneath him and he felt himself fall. Arcann's right hand found his shoulder, almost as if to keep him upright, like he had just stumbled and simply needed a little push to keep standing. Thexan felt the cold of the mechanical hand behind his head, cradling it and he hadn't known a prosthetic limb could feel so gentle. Or perhaps it was simply because it was Arcann's.

Thexan was sure his face was frozen in an expression of surprise, a distant part of his brain calling it “shock”. He could feel Arcann's arms around him, both flesh and machine, softening his fall, laying him down with a care he knew his brother possessed but had not shown in a long time. Thexan's eyes never left Arcann's, his real eyes back once more and he felt comforted by the sight. His brother's hand held onto him, a hold he returned though his grip was weak. Then the most wonderful thing happened; Arcann let down his barriers, every last one them, Thexan was unable to keep in a breath of relief and the bond felt like heaven once more. Or it would have if his pain wasn't saturating their link as Arcann's mind reached his.

“ _Thexan?! Thexan; please no, no that wasn't... it wasn't... no! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean...!”_

Arcann's mind was trying to latch onto his, pour healing energy inside of him. Arcann, who couldn't even heal his own bruises was trying heal him. Thexan wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He had the strength for neither.

“ _Hold on I'll... I'll fix this, hold on please, I never meant to, I'm so sorry, I... please... I didn't want this, I never wanted this, please no, please...!”_

Thexan was only half listening, his head felt heavy, his thoughts muddled inside his mind and his hand slipping from his brother's grasp.

“ _It feels good... your mind... missed it... missed you...”_

He was aware he was probably not making much sense but forming words was becoming so hard.

“ _I... I'll never put any shields again, not ever I... I never should have I'm sorry, I won't ever again, I promise please stay with me please, I'm so sorry it wasn't meant to happen, that's not what I... what I... I'll heal you, you're going to be fine please hold on, please don't leave...!”_

Thexan wasn't paying attention anymore, couldn't have if he wanted to. He could feel darkness pulling him deeper, like a cold alien embrace dragging him under. He should have resisted but he felt so _weak_. He kept his eyes on Arcann's face memorizing every line he could see that wasn't hidden by the mask, the almost invisible scar on his temple, the barely perceptible beginning of stubble on his cheek (he always needed to remind him to shave it), his hair that always grew back quicker than his for whatever reason that was, forcing him to cut it more often (Arcann would make a grumpy face, Thexan would laugh, take the scissors and give him the needed haircut, petting his head as if he were a grouchy cat).

This face he knew so well was blurring and Thexan felt the sudden desire to go back; back to his other half, back to the one that made him whole. But the darkness was insistent, refusing to let him leave, to let him fight for his life.

_Arcann..._

“ _Don't wanna leave... you...”_

Even his eyelids were heavy now, he couldn't even feel the burn in his midsection anymore. His hand finally slipped from Arcann's grasp, as his eyes closed.

“ _No, Thexan stay, please stay no no no, Thexan, Thexan, THEXAN!!”_

It was the last thing he heard before darkness swallowed him whole.

 

**

 

_Come with me, son._

 

**

 

Arcann woke up in pain, the mask on his face making him feel suffocated for a second before breath filled his lungs. He blinked.

This... was their bed. Their quarters. How had he arrived there? The sun was setting, bathing the room in orange light, yet he was sure it was already night when... when... why was he hurting so much?

“Oh, you're awake,” He looked up to see Vaylin standing in front of the bay window, her silhouette like a shadow against the light, “You've been out for a whole day you know. Kind of strange.”

A whole day? No he... what had he been doing? They came back from Korriban and.. and...

Thexan.

Panic rose inside him and he sat up uncaring of the wave of nausea that overtook him. He had been so angry he had... but it wasn't meant to be Thexan, never Thexan, never his brother yet he had.

“Thexan!” He exclaimed, his modulated voice not enough to hid the tremor in it, “How...?”

He never had the chance to finish for at the same moment he reached for the bond -their bond, their link. All he felt was pure agony. He screamed, gripping his head in his hand as he reached for the bond only to find a bloodied torn apart stump in it's place. Like a violently uprooted tree, something had slashed through their bond with viciousness and it _hurt_ , the missing bond like a missing heartbeat in his chest.

“ _Thexan! Thexan!!”_ He called but it echoed in his mind without an answer.

Arcann didn't realise Vaylin had sat next to him until she spoke.

“You probably shouldn't poke that for a while, that bond thing of yours has been pretty messed up.”

The thought that anyone -even their sister- had touched _their_ bond made his skin crawl. He completely disregarded her advice, grabbed onto the bond -what was left of it- trying to find Thexan on the other side -Thexan was _always_ on the other side, he could _never_ be alone. A powerful spike of pain coursed through him instantly forcing another shout out of him but he persisted, blindly reaching out for his other half, calling desperately.

“ _Thexan! Thexan! Please answer me please...!”_

“He can't answer you know,” He heard Vaylin say distantly and that was when he realised he had been repeating his brother's name with both mind and voice, rocking himself slowly back and forth, “He's dead.”

He's dead.

He's dead.

Thexan is dead.

Because he had killed him.

He had killed Thexan.

_You've just been killing more, there's a difference._

Slowly, his hands let go of his head and he looked at them as if they did not belong to him.

These hands had killed Thexan. _His_ hands.

_Come with me, son._

Arcann lashed out, the Force breaking furniture as he commanded -obeying just like it did when he killed half of his soul- desk, chair, decoration, whatever he saw in that moment was smashed down. The bond remained in his mind, crippled, a bird with cut wings forced to keep on living. He could see it still, his brother's eyes widened in surprise because he hadn't truly believed Arcann would hurt him. Because he trusted him.

_Don't wanna leave you._

Arcann let out another broken cry. He hadn't left the bed, not yet, too much in pain and he didn't want to move anyway, did not want to go back to a world where Thexan wasn't here anymore.

“That's quite alright,” he heard Vaylin say, her voice sounding distant, “I break things when I get angry too. Feels good doesn't it?”

She looked at the debris covered floor, pushing a shard of glass with her foot. His outburst clearly hadn't fazed her.

“It's too bad really, I liked Thexan. He was always far too serious but still... I wish you had gone for Father's neck instead.”

 _I wanted to_ , he thought, _I tried to. And he stopped me._

In that moment, he had seen red. All there was was the rage, all the rest set aside, forgotten. Even their bond. Yet it had been the very same bond that dragged him back, the horrifying realisation that he hadn't been fighting the person he meant to.

Vaylin's voice was the only thing still attaching him to reality, keeping him from sinking into the storm of muddled memories and feeling that constituted the event.

“I don't quite understand, of all the persons I thought you could kill, he wasn't on the list. I thought you said you loved him.”

_I do, I do, I do, I love him, I didn't mean to, I never wanted to..._

And yet he had.

He had felt Thexan's hand slip from his just as his mind escaped his grasp, like water between his fingers, his thoughts reaching him as the light of his soul left Arcann's.

_Don't wanna leave you._

He had thrown away every single stupid barrier he had built in their bond, desperately reaching out but it hadn't been enough. _He_ hadn't been enough.

Arcann had seen their Father before him then, looking at them -his eyes burned gold just like Vaylin's. He didn't remember them being like that before. He had raised his pleading gaze to the man he abhorred more and more everyday, silently begging for him to do something, _anything_.

_Help him, save him!_

The man who's power was beyond imagination, who was _immortal_ did not even look at his dying child. He held out his hand.

_Come with me, son._

Arcann had no memory after that until he woke up in their - _his_ now and how wrong the singular felt- bed. All he could remember was the pain in their bond. The pain that remained.

“Where,” he asked, the trembling of his voice hidden by the modulator of his mask, “Where is Thexan?”

Vaylin cocked her head on the side, looking at him strangely as if he were a puzzle she couldn't figure out.

“The body you mean?” He winced, the words like a punch to the guts but his sister either didn't notice or didn't care, “Father has already cremated it with his lightsaber.” The information pushed another wave of nausea into Arcann, his mind supplying the image of his brother's burning flesh, “He's planning a public ceremony for his funerals too.” She patted his leg as if trying to comfort him, “Don't you worry, no one will know it was you! There's already a nice story of how he was killed by the outlanders in the war. A wicked wound no one saw that caught up with him.”

Of course no one would know, they were the golden royal family of Zakuul, there was no room for such thing there. Arcann wanted to scream. Perhaps it was because he already let out his temper earlier but he did not find it in himself to do so. He only felt the pain of the bond slowly becoming a familiar companion.

“I saved something for you though.” Vaylin said as she rose and went for a neatly folded pile of clothes that had been left in a corner and surprisingly untouched by Arcann earlier outburst. It was dark and he recognized it before his sister laid them before him. Thexan's clothes. The ones he wore when Arcann killed him.

“I had to twist the Knights' arms a bit,” Arcann was certain that in her case the expression was quite literal, “But they were going to burn the body anyway and while it's tradition for the lightsaber to go, clothes are fair game. So here they are.”

Arcann's flesh hand shook as let his fingers run on the black fabric. It had lost all warmth by now, cold already setting in the fibres (just like Thexan's body must have run cold before he was burned) yet he found himself gripping it as if it were his lifeline. In a way it was. The last physical piece of Thexan left in the galaxy.

He was having trouble breathing again.

He knew had been staring wordlessly for long while when Vaylin finally rose and stretched her arms.

“Not that I'm bored, but I would truly rather do something else. You have to attend the public funerals of course, there won't be a private one anyway. I think it's mostly just for show.”

A show, an exhibit for the people and a punishment for him. Nothing less than he deserved. He robbed his brother of his life after all, he should be the first witness to his handy work.

_I didn't want to, I didn't mean to, never, I would **die** for Thexan...!_

Yet he had killed him, with his own hands, with the lightsaber they had built _together_. Arcann would have protected his brother from all harm, yet he couldn't protect him from his own cursed self.

“The funerals will begin tomorrow at sunset, we'll have to dress all fancy,” Vaylin said idly as she watched her brother, “But your mind's already parsecs away isn't it?” She huffed and it was highly reminiscent of their childhood when she would start sulking because she knew her brothers had whole discussions in their heads without her. Yet she could hardly be further away from the little girl she used to be then. She rose, pieces of glass crushing under her feet, sparring another glance for her brother who hadn't left his near catatonic state, hands fisted in his twin's clothes. She gave him an awkward pat on the head but clearly had no idea what to do with him and left without another word, disturbed by what she could not comprehend.

When he heard the door close, Arcann let out a breath he had no idea he was keeping in. He could not show weakness, in front of anyone, and he had already shown her too much. It was something his mind couldn't let go of, the conviction he could not be weak in front of anyone.

Except Thexan.

But Thexan was dead now.

Arcann's metal hand could not feel anything anymore but the flesh one could and he let it run over the fabric of his brother's top. It was the exact same as his own, the colour being the only difference. His hand went lower and lower, reaching the midsection. There, the cloth was torn by a slash, burnt on the edges by the heat of the lightsaber – _his_ lightsaber. As he passed his fingers on the inside of the tear, he felt something prick his thumb. When he looked, there was a red drop blooming on the pad of his thumb thought he didn't feel any kind of discomfort. In truth he wasn't feeling much at all.

There were blue shards of something inside his brother's clothes, some of it falling out as he moved the fabric around. Arcann quickly realised they were the remains of a blue focus crystal and he wondered briefly what it was doing here before he remembered.

“ _I don't see why you're keeping that.”_

_He had been training -he was always training- sweat covering his body as he finished a session of pretty intense combat practice, muscles aching from the hours of exertion yet he ignored them. Pain must always be ignored._

_Thexan interrupted his sewing for a second to Force throw a bottle at him. Unlike his twin he had been taking breaks while keeping a close eye on his other half's state. His brother did not force him to take breaks himself, in exchange, Arcann let him look after him._

_Also the water really wasn't unwelcome after such workout._

“ _Because I want to. I don't believe we'll be seeing mother again anytime soon,” he gave a pensive look to the focus crystal he was sewing into his top, “I just don't want to forget I suppose.”_

_Arcann gulped down half of the water before answering._

“ _She doesn't understand us. If she can't accept what needs to be done to reach our full potential then it's probably a good thing she left now.”_

_Thexan kept his focus as he finished his sewing. Their Father had made sure they were not as coddled as the rest of Zakuul's citizens and they had to learn all the manual necessities of the battle field; sewing things back together only being one of them. Thexan appreciated doing it, finding peace in the mindless activity._

“ _Still, I'd like to keep it close. It still has her Force aura you know, it helps me with meditation.”_

_Arcann finished the bottle and left it on a nearby bench. In the end, it never truly mattered why he kept the crystal, if he desired to do so, Arcann would simply abide by it. Anything for his twin, even what he didn't understand._

“ _Whatever you wish brother.”_

_Thexan smiled as he took a good look at his work. While their mother's departure had also left an ache in him he would rather cut any ties left right now. She didn't know what was best for them._

_Thexan grabbed a towel next to him and started to pass it on Arcann's shoulders, wiping off some of the sweat._

“ _What I wish for is for you to stop pushing yourself so hard,” he was gentle with his movements, almost caressing making Arcann want to lean back and close his eyes, feeling his twin knead some of his back muscles, “You're so tense again, I'm not letting you get away with any more practice today.”_

_Arcann groaned half-heartedly._

_'And that's final.' The voice in his head added._

_He smiled at that, no feeling could compare to the touch of Thexan's mind against his own. It was right, and the only thing Arcann was always sure of._

_'You get to pamper me, I get to pamper you?'_

_He felt Thexan's amusement._

_'Deal.'_

_'Good.'_

_All was good when they were together._

Now Arcann looked at the fallen shards on his laps, destroyed when he slashed across his brother's midsection. He picked up the sharpest one he found, stared at it for a few second before trying to bury it under his skin. The flash of pain he felt as he cut his fingers wasn't nearly enough to forget the one in his mind.

Arcann cried out like a beast in pain as he tore the mask from his face. It clattered to the ground among other debris while he buried his face in Thexan's robes. His scent was still there and he breathed in deeply wanting to forget everything else. But the bond would not let him forget. It throbbed, trying to reach out to another that was no longer there. Arcann heard a strange keening sound, wondered what it was before he realised it was coming from himself. He should have stopped, it was a disgusting display of weakness but he just _couldn't_. When he felt the moisture on his face, he simply stopped trying, starting to rock himself back and forth, his face still buried in the cloth in an attempt to drown himself in his brother's scent. His weeping lasted till the sun set on Zakuul and continued well into the night, both mouth and mind chanting the same word over and over again like plea.

Thexan.

_Thexan._

 

**

 

The public funeral was a torture. Arcann expected nothing less. The mask was securely back on his face and not having to show half his face was a relief. He would rather have people fear his appearance rather than pity his scars. He hated this, being surrounded by a crowd of people always had, but Thexan used to be there, he made everything okay, it didn't matter how many people there were if Thexan was by his side. But he wasn't and would never be again. Their bond pulsated at the thought, sending pain coursing through him, a bleeding wound that seemed to get worse with time.

Vaylin remained unmoved the whole time, frowning at flickers of emotions that passed in her eyes but always died out quickly. And their Father... Their Father remained always unperturbed. His face stony and his eyes burning gold.

Valkorion stood there just as immobile as he was when he watched Thexan die.

Arcann looked upon the crowd, all those nameless faces here to 'mourn' the Prince of Zakkul. Oh, he knew the rumours, the way they looked at him and whispered to each other. How the outlanders didn't truly kill Thexan but it was Arcann who did, to claim the place of the golden Prince, to have an access to the Eternal Throne. Thexan's dea... leaving did not truly mean anything to them, they knew _nothing_.

Arcann would take his lightsaber to his own chest and activate it without hesitation if his death could return Thexan's life. Thexan deserved everything, he was always stronger, a faster learner, had no problem keeping his back straight at all time, could communicate with the people of Zakuul, his charisma brighter, less unattainable than Valkorion's. Thexan had never let himself be afraid of Nathema, never refused to go see Vaylin because of it. Thexan could fake his smile, keep his calm, and withstand Father's silences with cold grace. Thexan was the better twin, the better half. Had Arcann succeeded in killing Valkorion he would have simply stepped aside to let his brother take the place he rightfully deserved. But Thexan had stopped him, held him back.

And Arcann hadn't been able to control the Force that flowed through him, hadn't been able to control _himself_.

_Deformed. Maimed. **Weak**._

Yes, he was all those things and more.

 _Kinslayer_.

The Scions spoke but their words didn't register. He never held them in high esteem but it was even worse now. He and Thexan are -were- bonded, a clear sign Fate would have them remain together. They were not meant to part. Even as a child it had filled his heart with joy to know he would not live a heartbeat beyond Thexan's.

_Lies._

Nothing but lies, if it were true he would have died with Thexan or they would have both survived. Yet Arcann remained when his brother had gone.

Fate was a _lie_.

He had killed Thexan. He had killed Fate.

Arcann's eyes stung and he took a deep breath to keep the tears from coming. He could not show any weaknesses. However this time, there was no Thexan on the other side of the bond to sooth his nerves and calm his thoughts, he was alone in his own mind and he was _terrified_.

Grit your teeth, clench your fists.

Breathe.

He could not afford to lose control. He lost control once and this was the result.

Arcann looked once more at all the people gathered here, only feeling anger. None of them were here for Thexan, they didn't know him, they didn't see him, the real _him_ not the golden picture he sold them. They had no idea what his laugh sounded like, didn't know how the shades of blue in his eyes changed with the light or that he slept curled up always stealing the sheets in the process. It was just an exciting day in their dull lives.

Arcann did not remember the ceremony ending, only Vaylin pushing his shoulder (“Time to move big brother.”) he barely heard her, her voice far away as if it were a dream. Valkorion passing by them without so much as a look, cape flowing behind him. He did not care that one of his sons tried to kill him, did not care that the other stopped him, did not care Thexan died because of _him_. He only watched and did nothing.

And Thexan died as he enjoyed the show.

It was quiet at first, the rage that grew in him, it did not take root that day, the truth is it was always there, eating away at him but he was letting it grow just as Thexan tried to stop it. But Thexan wasn't here ( _anymore_ , not ever again). Unlike before, the darkness settled but did not leave. It stayed, getting comfortable inside his mind.

It hadn't taken root yet but the tendrils were already wrapping themselves around his soul.

 

**

 

Arcann had trouble using the Force. It did not respond to him the way it used to, slipping out of his grasp, his steps faltered, unable to hold his fighting form as he did before. Everyday was slow, merging into one another until he couldn't tell how long it had been since... since _it_ happened. He could not remember when was the last time he slept, actually slept, for whenever he did close his eyes, only nightmares followed. Thexan's face so much like his own yet better -he always looked better to Arcann's eyes- surprise in his eyes ( _betrayal_ , you _betrayed_ him) his mouth still slightly opened as if he wished to say something and his hand leaving his no matter how much he tried to hold on to it. Arcann always failed to save him and his brother was swallowed by empty darkness and he would wake up sweating and screaming the name of his other half.

(Perhaps his face was wet but it was _not_ because of the tears)

Arcann would grab Thexan's clothes -he kept them, hidden like a secret, terrified someone might take them from him- buried his face into them like he did that first day, trying to calm his breathing, force air into his lungs (he was _not_ having a panic attack). But the scent of his brother was fading and he was probably imagining it by now -how long had it been again?- yet the dark clothes remained a comfort he could not deny himself.

(Because he was _weak_ )

Arcann would wake every morning -or simply wait for the sun to rise with eyes wide opened- more tired than the day before, the bond aching in his mind reminding him he was incomplete, that he had destroyed the only best part of his life. He wanted his suffering to end but he deserved every inch of it.

He was drowning.

Vaylin tried to... 'help'. What she considered to be help. She would urge him to go back to the battlefield to kill some more outlanders.

“You have to fill a double score with Thexan dead now!” She would tell him.

Sometimes she would stay during his more catatonic moment where he sat and stared at empty space (the place where someone should be). She would always leave after some time, though how long he could not tell. She broke something before she left some furnitures or any inconsequential trinkets without getting so much as a twitch out of him.

Except the day she touched Thexan's clothes. Vaylin had probably grown tired of his lack of reaction and had taken hold of his brother's robes, rising them into the air.

“Maybe we should get rid of that.”

Arcann hadn't used the Force in so long, perhaps it had just been building inside him but he rose the very instant the words left her lips creating a shock wave that sent her flying against the wall, Thexan's clothes silently falling back to the floor.

“Well finally!” She exclaimed as if it was what she had been waiting for, “You're no fun as a vegetable, brother.”

He blinked slowly, looking at her then at the clothes. He had hurt his little sister. Not badly, and from Vaylin's satisfied expression, she had been working to get something like that out of him but still. He had attacked her. Would he kill her the next time? He could not let it happen, Vaylin was his little sister he would not hurt her. Something had to be done.

Anything.

 

**

 

Arcann hated Valkorion, hated kneeling before the man. The same man who had lied about Thexan's death, the man who had watch him kill his other half, did _nothing_ , then extended a hand.

_Come with me, son._

But he was powerful and did not tolerate having a child incapacitated in any way. He looked unimpressed by Arcann's lack of control over the Force.

“I told you this bond was a hindrance, now look at you; incapable of living without it.”

He remained on his knee as the man -his Father- did not ask him to rise. His eyes still burned gold, never returning to their usual blue as if they had merely been cosmetic and this was something he no longer needed to hide

“You want many things Arcann, you always have but you do not have the power to accomplish anything. You have wants but no will.” The Emperor stopped before him, only his feet visible to his son, “You cannot remain this pathetic. You broke the chain that held you to Thexan. Do take advantage of this freedom.”

Valkorion's commanding tone reminded Arcann of their lessons as children, words imprinted in his brain.

This was another lesson. But he was no longer a child eager to please.

He was older, angrier, stronger.

_(and in pain, so much pain)_

Arcann looked upon the throne. He had always wanted to be strong, powerful though he didn't desire the throne itself. The throne was meant for Thexan, he would be Emperor and Arcann would be his High Justice. He had never been jealous or envious of Thexan, he was _everything_ to him. He should have been the Emperor he would have bowed to with joy.

Valkorion did not deserve it, no matter what his blindly loyal subjects believed. He had let Thexan die then brushed aside his death as if it were nothing more than a minor accident.

However Thexan did deserve this power, he would have been a magnificent ruler.

But Thexan would never have the throne.

Because he killed him.

Arcann would never hold Thexan again, he would never watch as his other half ascended the throne, would never again hear him laugh or see him smile.

But he could make sure the throne did not remain in Valkorion's hands.

It would take time, he would have to wait for the Emperor to lower his guard, search for the right time. He could make Thexan's death mean something.

“ _I will make the Eternal Empire you deserve Thexan.”_ he whispered into the torn bond, ignoring the pain that came with doing so.

Valkorion's voice reached him once more.

“You will not show the kind of weakness you displayed in the last months again. You will learn, grow, and perhaps make something of yourself in the process. Is that understood?”

His voice was cold, unfeeling and in this moment Arcann knew he would never please the man but it had little importance now. He no longer desired his approval.

“Yes, Father.”

He only wanted his death.

 

**

 

Arcann found that the inhuman sound of his voice behind the mask started to please him. That way he didn't sound like Thexan. He didn't deserve to have Thexan's voice anyway. It was hard at first, to try and regain the control he lost over the Force, it was slippery and he couldn't focus as the bond screamed in his mind whenever he used it.

_He's not here, he's missing, he's missing from me..._

_I know._

And he was not coming back. The bond twisted again like a wounded animal making him wince. He could not focus, not with the pain, all he wanted was for it to stop, to simply stop all those feelings that tore him inside like metal shrapnel.

_(But the only thing he ever truly wanted was Thexan)_

It was easier to focus on his hatred of Father, helped him forget the pain. Anger was a quite potent anaesthetic. It became easier with each passing day; get up, live through the day, repeat. He slept a fitful restless sleep filled with unpleasant dreams ( _nightmares_ ); he ate though all food had become bland to him. All those things were now tasks he had to accomplish during the day in order to be functioning. Vaylin seemed rather pleased as her brother was no longer a lifeless doll, his multiplied aggressivity almost a comfort to her (if she could remember what comfort was) perhaps Arcann would understand her now, understand how freeing darkness could be when you had to hide from your own mind.

( _These_ t _wo broken souls could not fix each other, all they could do was being broken together_ )

Training after training, day after day, Arcann eyes took more and more time to return to their original colour. Until the day they didn't. He looked at himself, his single visible eye burning like a sunset.

Good.

He did not deserve Thexan's eyes. Thexan was everything that was good and right, everything Arcann was not.

It did not stop him though, during some of his sleepless night, to grab his clothes again and hide within them, trying to fool his mind into thinking Thexan wasn't lost to him if only for a second.

( _It wasn't tears on his face, it wasn't_ )

 

**

 

Time passed and soon it was a full year since Thexan's death. It wasn't as if Arcann were counting the days (he was), he had been growing stronger with every merciless training session though his power was different from before. But that didn't matter, what mattered was that he had recovered his strength and all he needed now was an opportunity, a chance to strike against Valkorion.

The scions had been becoming a real nuisance in the past year, Heskel especially so. Arcann idly wondered if cutting the tongue of the man would curb his fanaticism. Most likely not but the thought was enjoyable. Once he was emperor, this pathetic order would be nothing but ash.

Arcann had been playing the part of the dutiful son for several months now, but the wait was coming to an end. He had even planned what he would say to announce Valkorion's death to Zakuul. It would need a few adjustment depending on the manner he found to get himself rid of his Father but the first part he knew by heart. He would repeat it every night, never quite speaking, only mouthing the words and dreaming of the day he could speak them out loud.

 _'Soon Thexan, soon'_ , he'd whisper into the bond that kept hurting after all this time, ' _Soon Vaylin and I will rule and I will make the Empire you deserve.'_

The Empire he should have had.

Arcann already knew who would be to blame for the Emperor's death. The outlanders. They had 'killed' Thexan after all, it was poetic that they would kill Valkorion as well.

'I'll choke you with your own lie Father'

He should probably have been happy that this was covered up, for he would have lost his status if anyone knew. But these lies were an insult to Thexan, every time he heard a whisper about it or saw the commemorative plaque made in his honour he wanted to scream.

' _It was me! It was me! I killed him, he's gone because of me_!'

Perhaps a part of him hoped the truth of his brother's death would get him killed. Once dead he would find Thexan again.

But Thexan was probably disgusted by him, certainly disappointed. Arcann had failed him, killed him. He knew he deserved no place by his side, not even in the afterlife but at least he would feel his light in his mind.

That would be enough.

But not now. Now he had an Empire waiting to be rid of Valkorion. He would make it greater, better than his Father had.

'For you Thexan,' he thought in the darkness of his room, 'For you.'

It was all he had now.

His new duty.

With this dream in mind and Thexan's robes held close to his chest, he could almost sleep.

 

**

_(Almost._

_But not quite._

_Because there's still emptiness_

_In his mind._

_In his heart._

_In his soul.)_

He never gets used to the sound of a single heartbeat.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Arcann needs a hug. And Therapy. And Thexan.  
> Anyway like I said, there may be more one-shots to follow this. Because I'm not letting Thexan be dead.  
> They brought back Darth Maul after he was cut in half and thrown into a pit, there's no reason Thexan shouldn't come back.


End file.
